Alinia's Battle
by The First Adventuress
Summary: A mysterious knight on a huge black horse has appeared, seemingly undefeatable in the Araluen tournaments. Will is determined to discover his identity. If and when he does, what will this mean for the kingdom...and for Will? It will mean more than he ever imagined as he embarks on a desperate quest to save a deeply scarred young woman from her destructive search for vengeance.
1. Prologue

**_Alinia's Battle-Prologue_**

Will Treaty sat on the front porch of his little cabin, nursing a mug of warm brown coffee. Occasionally, he would glance down at the old sheep dog that lay beside his chair. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it Eb?" he asked fondly.

The dog looked up at him, slowly wagging its graying tail. Then its focus shifted as it looked warily at the forest, pricking up its ears. A moment later Will became aware of the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

He stood up warily. _Always expect the worst. _Halt had drilled the lesson in to his brain. _You'll either be ready, or pleasantly surprised. _His hand drifted to the hilt of his saxe knife. This mentality had saved his life countless times throughout his dangerous career. It paid to be ready.

His wary stance quickly relaxed as his visitor came into view. A tall, beautiful young woman on a pale grey horse cantered gracefully toward him, her long, wavy blonde hair blowing slightly behind her.

She drew rein beside the porch and swung gracefully down, calling a greeting. He embraced her with a quick kiss before leading her horse to the barn for her. When he returned, she was seated on the front step, petting the dog. She rose as he stepped onto the porch, then sat again, pulling him down beside her.

"Will, it's so good to see you. It's been forever!"

"Yes, much to long," Will agreed, taking her hand in his.

"Well, I'm here to remedy that," she smiled.

"What were you thinking? A romantic dinner at the Heaped Platter, perhaps?"

"No, I was thinking of something a bit different this time. There is to be a joust at Castle Redmont this Sunday, I thought perhaps you would be my escort. Young Ralph is competing."

"Of course I'll come Alyss, that's an excellent idea!" Will agreed. He never would have passed up a chance to spend time with Alyss. The fact that Ralph would be competing made it even better. He was Sir Rodney's one-time star pupil, and though not a natural, the twenty-two year old young man's strong work ethic had made him a very competent, if not excellent, swordsmen. Alyss and Will had enjoyed watching him develop from a young teen determined to succeed into a strong, kind, confident young man. A tourney would be an excellent place for him to showcase his skills, and to learn from some of the older knights. Will was already rooting for him.

"That's settled then," she said. She prepared to continue when Will cut her off.

"Jenny sent me a pie last night, and there's still half of it left. Would like to go inside and have a bite to eat?"

Alyss toyed with the idea of teasing him over eating half a pie in one evening, but decided that with Jenny's cooking she would probably do the same. "Good idea, I would _not _want to miss that," she said, rising and brushing the dust from her long white gown.

As the door shut behind them, the dog let its paws slither down into a lying position with a sigh. She recognized superior competition when she saw it.


	2. Mystery Knight

**_Alinia's Battle-Chapter One-Mystery Knight_**

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. After attending a service at the village church, Will walked back to his cabin, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, but there was just a hint of approaching frost, a nip of coming cold, in the morning air. Altogether excellent weather for a sporting event, he decided. The competitors wouldn't be too hot, nor the spectators too cold.

When he arrived, Alyss was waiting for him, her tall gray mare tied on a long lead to a post of the porch, cropping grass. Ebony was snuffling around the edges of the porch, exploring with her nose the scent of the raccoon that had prowled there during the night.

With a mischievous smile, he began stepping more softly. Startling the poised Alyss would be an achievement. He crept up and was only about four yards away when the horse sensed his approach and turned its head. Alyss followed its gaze and smiled, stepping forward to greet him as though she had known he was there the whole time. Will kicked himself mentally for not thinking of the horse. But he smiled just the same.

Alyss looked beautiful. She wore a long green dress with yellow trim, and a yellow overdress that covered her back and shoulders, wrapping around slightly so that it could be seen on the sides of the green. A few yellow ribbons connected the sides of the overdress across her waist, and she had buttercups in the long braid that arched like a crown above her forehead, holding back her wavy, waist length ash-blonde hair.

He took her in his arms. "You look lovely Alyss," he said, brushing back a strand of hair that had escaped from behind the braid.

She stepped back, pretending to scrutinize him. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Will wore a green and gray mottled tunic, but it was a fancier cut than usual, and had silver stitching around the neck and sleeves. He wore his usual belt and knives, but the cloak, bow, and arrows were absent. His dark gray leggings had obviously been washed, and his brown hide boots freshly oiled. His hair was messy as usual, but it looked good that way. All in all, he looked quite handsome.

"Shall we be off?" she questioned.

"Yes, we should," he agreed. "Just let me grab my bow and arrows."

Alyss nodded and he entered the cabin, exiting a moment later with his bow, quiver, and cloak. The cloak had also obviously been washed recently. Alyss tightened her horses girth as Will went to saddle Tug. He brushed and tacked the pony up, then walked him out of the stable. Alyss chuckled as she watched Tug try to dance away from Will and get back into the barn.

"He didn't quite finish his breakfast." Will gestured to the pony. "Here, Tug," he pulled an apple from a pocket and fed it to the pony, who crunched it happily, then nosed him violently, asking for more. "No boy, that's enough for now. There will be lots of nice things in the village."

The pony snorted.

Will glanced at Alyss and rolled his eyes. "He's a tough customer."

She nodded in agreement. "Stella can be that way too."

Will glanced at the tall thoroughbred and raised an eyebrow. The mare didn't look like she could be a tough _anything. _The horse stuck its head forward and stared back at him, then snorted and turned away.

"I stand corrected," Will said.

Alyss smiled. "If we're done arguing with our horses, perhaps we should be on our way." She swung onto he horses back, then leaned forward and pulled the rope that tied it free, leaving the rope dangling against the post.

Will followed her example. He raised the reins and clucked, and Tug stepped forward in a smart walk. Alyss followed more slowly, making her horse walk slower so that, with its longer stride, it wouldn't out walk Tug.

They arrived outside the castle right about noon, just in time to grab a bite to eat before the festivities started. They left the horses picketed on the grass, near the lists. Then they went to a food vendor and bought several chicken legs, a loaf of fresh crusty bread, some grapes, cheese, and a jug of fresh milk. Then they went and sat down in the shadow of a large oak tree, near the horses. They had just finished eating when the bugle call sounded, announcing the start of the joust. They stood up brushing the crumbs from their clothes, and made their way toward the lists. They were preparing to enter the bench seats reserved for middle-class spectators when Will felt a hand on his arm.

He turned and looked into the jovial face of Baron Arald.

"Will, Alyss, good too see you!" he boomed. "Come you must sit with us!"

Lady Sandra, standing beside him arm and arm, nodded her agreement. "Yes you should! It's been a while since we spoke. Well, not you Alyss, I see you regularly, but speaking unofficially, it's been quite a while."

"I believe we shall. Alyss? What do you think?"

"Of course." She put her arm through his. "After you, my lord." She motioned to the Baron.

He led the way to the seating for the nobility. They took their seat among the brightly colored silks and satins of the gentry. The Baron opened his mouth to make conversation, but Sandra laid a hand on his arm.

"It's starting, dear," she whispered.

The Baron nodded his thanks. Sandra had saved him from social blundering once again.

A herald stepped forward ad announced the names of the first two competitors. A knight in white, with a black eagle bearing a yellow rose in its talons for a crest, and mounted on a prancing bay horse, stepped forward to meet his adversary, a night in green with the emblem of a running wolf, mounted on another bay. The Eagle knight made short work of his inexperienced opponent, unhorsing him on the second pass.

Eventually, the faces and names blurred together. Will was actually drowsing off when a touch from Alyss started him awake again.

"It's Ralph," she muttered in his ear.

"Oh, thank you." He heard the herald finishing his introduction.

"-lph Bennett, Knight of Redmont Fief. He blew a burst on his trumpet, then turned and faced the other side of the lists. "The Unknown Knight, of Nowhere." This created a stir of interest. Anonymous competitors were not particularly uncommon, but they were out of the ordinary. The herald blew a burst on his trumpet. A heavily built black horse pranced up.

It had a thick mane that hung past its shoulder, and its tail was also extraordinarily long and thick. Its feet had feathering about the ankles, like a heavy draft breed, but the horse was only slightly stockier, and no taller, than the thoroughbreds most knights rode. Its face was elegantly dished, like an Arridan. The knight wore dark colored chain mail, and a full face helmet. His surcoat was royal blue, and the crest was quite unusual. A red, green stemmed rose over the left breast, with several drops of blood falling from the ruby petals over the riders chest. His lance was fully black as well, without ornament. Will's interest was piqued. The rider carried his lance with grace and confidence, and aboard the prancing horse his seat was rock solid. The knight took his place at the end of the lists.

The herald raised a flag and let it fall.

The knights charged.

It seemed both lances would land squarely in the other's chest, unhorsing both, and, at this speed badly injuring each other.

Alyss held her breath. At the last second, the mystery knight nudged his horse to the side, and both shot past each other.

The knights reached the end of the lists and wheeled their mounts facing once again. Then they charged. The same thing happened. The charge was repeated. The same thing happened. Five times more they charged, and five times more the strange knight dodged at the last moment.

Ralph's horse was lathered, and it breathed heavily. Nor did it move as well or as quickly as it had at the beginning. The other's horse was seemingly unruffled. They wheeled and charged again. This time the stranger's horse barely stepped, and the rider turned in the saddle and stuck his lance across the other's path. It struck Ralph across the stomach, hurling him backward from the saddle. He fell heavily and lay motionless. Will started to his feet, ready to run forward and help his friend. Then, slowly, the fallen man rolled over and got to his knees. He leaned over, trying to get his breath, and stood heavily. He dragged his helmet from his head, hair plastered down with sweat. Then he slowly walked to his horse and led the tired animal back to their tent, beyond the lists.

Only then did the spectators realize that the strange knight had not moved to his fallen enemy to see if he was alright, in fact, he had immediately ignored him, turned his back, and galloped off, none knew where.

The Baron looked at Will, his face mottled in anger. "The insolence-" he began, but the sound of hooves cut him off. A man on a lathered horse galloped up to the stands where the nobility were. Will recognized him as a courier, despite the fact that his white tunic and breeches were streaked with dust. He ran straight up to the Baron and went on one knee, then rose and spoke quietly but urgently into his ear. The Baron's expression changed from anger, to shock to sadness. He turned to Will and Alyss, his face grim.

"I have received troubling news. I wish you too proceed to my office at once." He clapped his hands and summoned and aide. "Get this man and his horse food and rest," he motioned to the messenger.

The aide nodded, and gently led the courier, staggering from weariness, to a tent where he could rest. Than he took the horse away to be cared for. Will and Alyss hurried down from the stands to where their horses were tied, then mounted and proceeded to the castle at a fast canter. Both were trained to deal with intense situations, and though neither face betrayed their curiosity, they each knew that the other was eager to know what was going on.


	3. More Mystery, and a Mission

**_Alinia's Battle-Chapter Two-More Mystery, and a Mission_**

Will and Alyss clattered over the wooden drawbridge and into the castle courtyard. They checked their horses and swung down. A groom ran forward, but Will waved him off.

"Take Lady Alyss' horse, I'll care for mine myself."

But Alyss was already shaking her head. "I'll stable my mare myself too, thank you for your assistance anyway."

The groom walked away, and Will and Alyss led their horses forward and underneath the thatched roof of the stable. There were several unoccupied stalls, and they chose the end where there were two next to each other. Will unsaddled Tug, then helped Alyss with Stella's. Then they filled two buckets with oats, and left the horses munching happily.

They were exiting the stable when a clatter of hooves announced the arrival of the Baron. Will started to move forward quickly, but Alyss laid a hand on his arm. "It's proper for him to be waiting when we arrive."

"Of course," Will said, rather irritably. "I would have let him beat us there." But he slowed his pace all the same. They entered the door at the bottom of the keep, and began ascending the staircase. The Baron's office was on the fifth floor, and the climb took several minutes. Will knocked on the Baron's door.

"Come in."

Will and Alyss stepped inside the office. The baron sat in his tall chair behind his desk, and other chairs had been arranged in a semicircle around it. Halt, Pauline, and Sir Rodney had already taken their seats, and Will nodded his greeting to each in turn.

"Well, I believe we are all here," the Baron said. He stood up. "Will, I received some disturbing news, as you had no doubt guessed by my conduct earlier this afternoon. One of the senior knights of Meric Fief is dead."

Will waited to hear more. He knew the Baron would not have called a meeting to discuss the fact that a knight had died of _natural _causes.

"He was killed competing in a tournament. By an anonymous knight, on a beautiful black horse. The strange knights emblem was a bleeding rose." The Baron paused. "Normally the death of a knight in combat in a tournament would not be strange. This was a tournament fought with real weapons, though the aim was to disable, not kill, an opponent. This knight fought the contest itself honorably, however, after he had won the competition by injuring this older knight, he did strange things. As you know, it is the custom for the victor of a tournament to crown the woman whom he deems fairest the queen of beauty. This knight haphazardly dropped the crown over the head of a peasant girl, with no ceremony or courtesy. Then he received the victor's prize, a beautiful golden goblet. The next day, the goblet was found, wrapped in a sack, on the doorstep of the village pastor. A generous act in itself, but quite unceremonious, and strange when looked at along with the other facts. This knight has, as we know, competed in multiple tournaments, risking himself neither for lady, nor for material wealth. He has caused the death of a senior knight, and has not demonstrated chivalry in victory. His disdainful treatment in the fight against young Ralph is a good example. I wished our senior officials," here he nodded to Halt, Pauline, and Rodney, "to be aware of the situation, and to add any thoughts they might have on the matter before continuing the course of action I feel to be appropriate."

"I have as of now no thoughts on the matter that I have not already informed you of, my lord,"Pauline said.

Halt and Rodney nodded their agreement.

"Very well," the Baron continued. "Will, there is a tournament in Caraway fief a fortnight hence, we, that is Pauline and I, think it is quite likely the mystery knight will compete there, if he plans to continue competing. I want you to attend, and find out who this knight is, and what he is doing, before anyone else is injured or killed, or before his unchivalrous behavior has a negative effect on our younger knights. Halt has agreed to come out of retirement temporarily and take over in your absence."

"Of course, my lord. It will be my pleasure to investigate."

"I thought you would say that. Thank you, Will. How soon can you leave."

"I could leave now, I suppose—" Will began, but the Baron cut him off.

"No need for that kind of haste."

"Tomorrow morning, then." Will said. He turned to Alyss. "I don't suppose you could stay at the cabin and feed Ebony while I'm gone?"

"Of course I can, I'll be their first thing in the morning."

"Thank you Alyss. Now, if we're finished I'll be going. I need to purchase a few things of the trip."

"We're done Will, you may be excused. Godspeed." The Baron watched as he left the room. "A mission will be good for him, I think. Redmont's been much to orderly these days."

"We have Will to thank for that," Halt said. "He's been doing an excellent job."

"That he has."

The five continued talking for several minutes, than one by one left the room. The Baron sat at his desk and stared at the wood, thinking. Will was a wonderful young man, he thought, and Alyss was such a lovely young woman. What were they waiting for?


	4. The Way to Caraway

**_Alinia's Battle-Chapter Three-The Way to Caraway_**

Will was just finishing a plate of bacon and eggs, and draining the last drops of his coffee, when he heard Ebony give a short bark of greeting. Alyss must be here, he thought. He carried the plate and mug to the sink, and rinsed them. Just as the last drop was wiped, and they were put in the cabinet, there was a knock on the door.

Will strode across the room and opened it. Alyss stood on the doorstep, her beauty competing for Will's attention with the delectable fumes rising from a covered basket she held in her hand.

"Hello," he greeted her, taking her by the hand and leading her inside before closing the door. "What's that you've got there?" He motioned to the basket.

"Oh, that. I told Jenny you had a mission to Caraway. She said she figured you would need some food for the road."

"Ah," Will said. "Well, give her my most sincere thanks." The fact that a civilian knew about the mission didn't bother him at all. Jenny was unique in the way of innkeepers. She knew how to keep her mouth shut.

"I suppose you'd better be going," Alyss said regretfully.

"I suppose so," Will agreed, equally regretfully. Every time he and Alyss were together, it was harder to leave. "You've done this before, you know where the dog food is, Jenny sends a boy over with bones every Monday—"

Alyss put a finger over his lips. "I know. Like you said, I've done this before."

Will gave her hand a light kiss, then released it. He picked up the basket and moved toward the door. Tug was already saddled, waiting with his traveling supplies. He opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Alyss grabbed his shoulder and he turned around.

"Be safe, Will."

And she kissed him.

Will didn't care about Jenny's pies. This was a sweet as it got.

* * *

As dusk began to fall, Will looked for a place to spend the night. The air had been comparatively warm, but fall nights were crispy-cold. A small valley, out of the wind, would be ideal. For lunch he had eaten dried food while riding, for dinner he looked forward to exploring that basket. Then he saw the perfect shelter.

A hemlock stood about twenty yards from the road. Its branches were long and swept the ground, concealing the fact that there was a ring of soft earth between where the branches touched the ground and the trunk. The ground was bare of grass where other travelers had sheltered and trampled the foliage. Will rode off the road and dismounted. He coaxed Tug underneath the tree and unsaddled him.

He had a small sack of oats, and poured some into a nose bag. The pony munched happily.

The pony taken care of, he took the cloth off the basket. Several slices of juicy roast beef sat in a bowl, soaking up the juices from chunks of potato, beet, and turnip, the whole thing seasoned with rosemary and onion. A small loaf of crusty bread, and a pat of yellow butter all also made themselves known. But best of all was a generous slice of apple pie. Will inhaled the rich aroma of cinnamon, sugar, and apple. Warm this stuff up and it would be a feast fit for a king.

Tug snorted. _Why ruin good apples with all those strange ingredients?_

"Because people like them, that's why. If you were human you would understand."

_Well, I'm not. And even if I were, I wouldn't eat that anyway. I'd get fat and lazy._

Will rolled his eyes. Tug was a lovable, but sometimes annoying companion. And worst of all, he was right. I'm getting spoiled with all this pie, Will thought.

_Yes, quite spoiled. Do you have any _normal _apples?_

"If it's the only way you'll shut up, I could probably find some!"

_It is._

Will sighed. He bent over and dug through the saddlebags. He found a big red apple, and handed it to the horse after taking off the horses nosebag.

Tug crunched smugly.

Will lit a fire and set the meat and pie near it. The fumes were mouthwatering, and it took all his self control not to just wolf it down half cold.

_I don't know why you don't just eat grass…_

"Remember who has the apples."

Tug turned his back and broke wind.

Will pursed his lips in mock anger. At least the food was ready, and in another day he would be in Caraway.


	5. Tournament

**Okay! This story is starting to get interesting. I bet you are all looking for this 'Alinia'. Don't worry, she'll show up within the next few chapters. **

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Four-Tournament**_

After two days of uneventful travel, Will rode out of the woods and onto the beginning of the mile long, gently sloping hill that was topped by Castle Caraway. Caraway was built of plain gray, almost blue stone. Not nearly as striking as Castle Redmont, but the castle had a strong look, and a sort of grace as well emanated from the gold banner that fluttered from the top of the keep. Will had already decided not to reveal his presence to the local Ranger or Baron. The problem was a small one, and constantly moving, so he didn't feel a need to get them involved.

Still, he decided, it would be best to scout around some, find out where the joust lists were being set up. Check out the terrain around the lists, in case he needed to chase anyone.

He rode around the castle, to where the lists were being set up, about half a mile behind the castle, and to the left. He scouted the terrain and found it all smooth. Once he made it into the woods, they seemed to be typical Araluen forest, and the most interesting thing he found was a clearing near a stream, a perfect campsite. By this time dusk was falling, and he pitched his small tent. He and Tug got a drink from the stream, then he picketed the horse to graze, and crawled into his tent. There he ate a small meal, and lay down. He gave a huge yawn. An early bed and a long sleep would be quite welcome. Tug would warn him if anyone came.

* * *

Songbirds twittered and Will's eyes fluttered open. So much for a long sleep, he thought groggily. Birds seemed to think 5 am was the perfect time for a musical. He pushed the tent flap open. There was no way he would fall asleep again with the musical racket in the trees. At least he would have time to prepare a decent breakfast.

Five minutes later he sat coaxing tenuous orange flames into a blaze. Satisfied that the fire would stay burning, he filled the coffee pot with water, and put in a handful of grounds. He filled another pot with water, and put in several handfuls of oats. then he placed both vessels near the flames. Picking up the sack of oats, he filled Tug's noseband and sat down, waiting for the food to cook.

He sighed as delectable wisps of steam rose from the pots.

_You really should learn to eat grass…_

Will whipped around. "Just don't, Tug," he snapped. "Besides, coffee's ready."

He poured a cup of the warm liquid and stirred in a teaspoon of honey from a small jar. As he finished the mug, he realized the oatmeal was ready, and took it from the fire, removing the lid to allow it to cool. He finished the first mug of coffee, and poured himself a second. Than he drizzled honey over the oatmeal, and spooned a warm bite into his mouth. It was pleasantly sweet. Just the thing to get a man going in the morning, Will thought.

_Only decent thing you eat,_ Tug put in.

Will decided that passed for agreement, and let the pony lick the pot clean. He rinsed the dishes in the stream and packed the tent and dishes away. Then he saddled Tug.

"No sense in just sitting around," he said.

Tug glared at him as he tightened the girth. _Actually, you'll still be sitting around. I'll be the one breaking my poor old back—_

"Oh, so you're getting old, are you? Practically a decrepit old nag. After all, you're thirteen painful years old. Probably arthritic."

Tug snorted. _You know what I meant, lazybones._

Will sighed. Tug made even snappy comebacks look foolish. He swung onto the pony's back, and they set off through the woods. Might as well get a feel for the woods, Will thought. He rode through the calm forest, admiring the intricate patterns that the golden sunlight filtering through the trees made on the ground. They shifted constantly, giving the woods a fragile, surreal feeling. That was when he heard the singing.

A young voice, definitely female, sang softly to a simple tune.

_Far away, under the wood_

_Wandering, wild and free_

_Strong as a bear_

_Solid as a tree_

_Swift as the wolf_

_Light as the bee_

_Gentle as the deer_

_The forest and me_

_Far away, under the wood_

_Wandering, wild and free_

_I have everything_

_That I can see_

_But there is something_

_Lacking for me_

_For I have no lover_

_I am free but lonely_

_Free and alone_

_The forest and me_

Will listened to the beautiful voice as it sang the simple words, weaving a tale of freedom, loneliness and longing.

_Far away, under the wood_

_Wandering, wild and free_

_Searching for love_

_A companion for me_

_They all have their mates_

_Wolf, deer, and bee_

_But we are alone_

_The forest and me_

_Far away, under the wood_

_Wandering—_

The voice broke off. The singer seemed to have sensed Will's presence. He heard a rustling that soon faded to silence. Oh well, I only would have complimented her voice, Will thought.

Then he heard the voice again, hostile and decidedly not musical. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" It said.

Will slowly turned Tug and looked at the speaker.

A beautiful girl, maybe nineteen years old, stood beneath an oak tree, about fifty paces away. She had long caramel hair, the color of the pale, dead oak leaves lying beneath the tree. She was dressed simply, in a long, loose white tunic, embroidered with pink and blue thread along the cuffs and neckline. Tan breeches and fringed leather boots completed the outfit.

But contrasting with her gentle, muted appearance, was the heavy hunting knife belted around her waist, and the ready way her hand rested upon the hilt. As did the look of her face, she scowled, and there was a shadow of suffering to her eyes, of some pain that lay on her heart.

Will spread his hands, to show he meant no harm. The girl had a lot of nerve, standing her ground before a king's Ranger. "I'm a Ranger. I have business with Victor, the Ranger of this Fief."

The girl frowned.

Will held up his oak leaf.

She relaxed slightly. "I believe you. If you'll excuse me, Ranger, I'm expected home shortly."

Will nodded, smiling. "Of course."

The girl turned and moved into the bushes. It was uncanny to him how quickly she disappeared, something hadn't been quite right…

Then he realized. She hadn't made any noise. The bushes had closed behind her without a rustle.

Like a Ranger.

Will frowned and shook his head. Stop being paranoid, he told himself.

_You're a Ranger, you're _supposed _to be paranoid._

"Good point, boy. I suppose we should head up to the castle."

Tug rattled his mane.

"I'm glad you agree," Will said as they trotted up the path and out of the forest. The field had been transformed from your average meadow to a riot of color and sound. Flags fluttered gaily in the breeze. Silk clad knights and ladies strolled around, looking at the various wares being sold by vendors. Village children laughed and ran about, feasting on dropped tidbits, or food bought with a coin or two from generous parents.

Will tied Tug to a tree near the lists, so the pony would be easily available should anything go wrong. It wouldn't do any harm to look about before the joust starts, Will thought. He turned to Tug. "Don' pin your ears a the village children, and don't snort at the ladies," Will said.

Tug snorted.

Will looked hurt.

_What? You're not a lady, are you?_

He sighed, and could have sworn the pony's sides were shaking as he turned and moved off into the hustle and bustle of the crowd. He bought himself some delicious fried bread sprinkled in sugar, then strolled around the other booths. A stand with jewelry on it caught his eye. Normally, such things wouldn't hold his attention. But Alyss would surely appreciate some of this man's workmanship. He spotted a silver chain, with a pale crystal set and twined elegantly with silver. There were matching earrings. Will glanced at the price and sighed. He looked around some more and finally hit upon something that he could afford. He had just finished his business with the silver dealer when a trumpet rang, summoning the knights to the lists.

Will sprinted across the space that separated the vendors from the lists, and came to a halt, panting, just as the first knights moved into the ring. As the joust progressed, the faces and names blurred together. Then the trumpet sounded, signaling the end. Will frowned. That couldn't be right, it was barely past noon!

The herald presented the victor with the prize, a metal crown wrought into flowers and plated with silver, and bade him claim the fairest. Will noticed a pretty, chestnut haired lass in the front row, wearing a pink gown whose cut indicated she was of the middle class. She was already blushing and smiling, and Will supposed that she was the knight's sweetheart. The guess was confirmed a moment later when the knight placed the crown upon her head.

The knight exited the lists, and the herald stepped forward once again. "That concludes our primary tournament, we will now begin an event wherein the knights will fight with real weapons. The object of this is not to kill one's opponent, but to disable him. The prize is this." The herald held up an elegant ceremonial sword. It's hilt and sheet were chased in silver, and in the pommel was set a bright green emerald. It was a beautiful sword. "The competitors will now come forward. Sir Harold of Caraway, Sir Raymond of Caraway, Sir Anson of Caraway, Sir Wyman of Caraway, Sir Jeffrey of Meric, Sir Newton of Norgate, Sir Faran of Norgate, and The Unknown Knight of Nowhere. You will fight in a free for all, the last man standing is the winner. When the trumpet sounds, you may begin."

Will's head came up at the mention of the Unknown Knight. Pauline was correct, as usual, he thought. Now, perhaps I can find out who this is, he has been anonymous long enough.

The trumpet sounded and the knights charged together. Three knights were beaten down in the initial charge, and when the remaining knights drew back to regroup, Sir Harold, Sir Anson, and Sir Newton were down. Attendants ran out and removed the stricken knights from the field, the others charged again. Sir Raymond and Sir Jeffrey went down, although both got to their feet again. Raymond limped off the field, and Jeffrey drew his sword to continue on foot.

The remaining mounted knights charged down on the remaining figure, except for the Unknown Knight, who sat still, waiting. All the lances of the remaining competitors had broken or fallen, and they drew their swords. Sir Wyman struck down Sir Jeffrey, just as Jeffrey killed Faran's horse. Faran recovered quickly and stabbed Wyman in the leg. The knight surrendered and rode from the field.

Will heard the men around him muttering. The Unknown Knight was a coward for hanging back, they said, and Will was inclined to agree with them. When the injured knights and the body of the horse had been removed from the field. The Unknown Knight turned and faced the uncounted figure of Faran. The crowd booed at the unfairness of the contest.

Then the Unknown Knight surprised them all by dismounting and sending his horse off to the side. Only Will understood. He saw from the way the knight worked with it that the beautiful black horse was his pride and joy. He didn't want to involve it in a fight where it would be the main target, and Faran would surely go for the horse, the easiest thing to reach.

The knight ran forward on foot. And the two came together. They exchanged several blows, than disengaged and circled each other warily, each trying to ascertain the skill of the other. They came together again, and the Unknown Knight gave a high pitched whistle.

Will saw what was coming a second before it happened.

The black horse charged toward the knights. Faran's guard faltered as he heard the hoofbeats. It was only for a moment, but that moment was enough. The Unknown Knight slid his sword forward and locked the blade in the intricate hilt of Faran's. With a deft flick of the wrist, he sent the sword spinning ten feet to the left. The Unknown Knight puttee tip of his sword against Faran's chest, forcing him back ward bit by bit. The crowd booed this playing with his victim. The horse came up beside his master and walked forward as well. The knight stopped walking and the horse snorted in Faran's face, soiling the bright armor of his helmet.

The Unknown Knight raised his sword and brought it against the side of Faran's helmet with a clang. Faran crumpled to the ground. The crowd booed louder. They were angry with this knight, to cowardly to show his face, who showed up in their fief and toyed with their champions. And Faran had been already defeated. There was no need to knock him out.

Disdainfully ignoring the boos of the crowd, the knight walked to his horse and mounted it, sheathing his sword. Then he spurred the animal to a gallop. Frightened villagers scattered as he charged the edge of the lists and jumped over. Will was already moving toward Tug, now he sprinted. He reached the little horse and was on his back in under a minute. The strange knight was just disappearing into the woods.

Will clapped his heels to Tug's sides and dashed off in pursuit.

**Ooooooooh, it's trickssssssy precious! It givesssss us cliffhangers does it?**


	6. Alinia

**Okey dokey, here's chapter five! Please read and review! Enjoy!**

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Five-Alinia**_

Will galloped down the hill and breakneck speed, but slowed down all the way to a walk as he reached the woods. The knight was a skilled fighter, and facing him was not something Will wanted to race into. Also, the knight was far ahead, he couldn't hear hoofbeats. He would have to track him. He hoped the rider did not know he was being pursued.

He dismounted and looked at the ground. The tracks were obvious, the ground churned and torn by heavy, galloping hoofs. He jogged forward, Tug following behind. After about a mile, the tracks indicated that the horse and rider had slowed to a walk. He noticed with surprise that they were following the trail to the place where he had camped the previous night. Then the tracks turned off into the bushes.

"Stay, Tug," Will said. "You can't follow, you'll make to much noise in there."

The pony exhaled mournfully.

Will moved into the bushes, following the tracks. After another mile of walking, he struck the stream. He was sure it was the same one that flowed past his camp. The tracks moved along it another half mile, before his trained ear caught the sound of metal on rock. It was a sound he was familiar with, as both he and Horace made it all the time. Someone was honing the edge of a sword or knife.

He unslung his bow from across his body and nocked an arrow. Stepping even more quietly than before, he inched along the track, the scraping growing closer as he went. There was a clump of young trees keeping him from seeing what he knew must be a clearing, and the scraping came from the other side. At the end of the clump of young trees was a huge old one, probably the parent tree. He moved along to this one and pressed his back against the trunk. Then, slowly, and with infinite caution, he slid his head around the trunk and peered out.

Directly into the eyes of the girl from the woods.

A tumult of thoughts raced through Will's brain as she stood, the whetstone falling from her lap, holding her sword in front of her and narrowing her eyes. "You." she said. "Why are you following me? You said you had business with Ranger Victor. I have done nothing."

"I'm afraid that's not true," Will said sternly. "Sir Shelby of Meric is dead."

Sorrow. Panic. Despair. Guilt. They all flashed across her face in a matter of seconds.

"And there are quite a few unspoken rules you've broken," Will continued, stepping fully from behind the tree. "You've set an awful example of chivalry for our young knights, behaved unchivalrously toward opponents, and injured opponents who were already disarmed without giving them a chance to surrender."

Anger sparked to life on her face. "Both Shelby and Faran were Drake's!" she cried.

"Drake who?"

Her face became guarded. "Why would you want to know."

"Because it's my job to know things. Someone died, and I need to find out why. And if you injured them because they were "Drake's" I need to know who Drake is. And why being "Drake's" would make them your mortal enemy."

She looked at Will, and he could see the struggle inside her. To trust or not to trust?

"Because Drake murdered my parents. Because Drake grew rich off of the property of the innocent dead whom he had killed. and they helped him. And then he became Baron of Perrigwyn Fief. I want to kill all of them just like they killed my family." she said fiercely. "But I'm not going to, I want to but I won't, I can't bring myself to inflict my pain on their families. No, death is to light a punishment. I'm going to defeat all of his retainers I can find. And then I'm going to tell the world who I am, and what they've done, and they'll be known murderers, who were defeated in combat by a teenage girl."

Will looked at her sympathetically, with new eyes. "You could be killed," he warned.

She laughed harshly. "You think I haven't thought of that? Honestly, would that really be so bad?" She was nearly laughing and crying at the same time. "If I don't fight, what else do I do?"

Will pursed his lips. There was little he could do to heal this hurt. Any comfort he had would be a mockery to this wound. "What's you're name?" he asked gently.

"Alinia Roux," she said. Then without prompting, she continued. "I was born in Gallica. You're a Ranger, you know things. You know what Gallica's like. We, my family and I, we had a castle, and several small villages whose people farmed for us in return for the protect of my father's men at arms, and asylum in the castle in case of fighting. When I was eleven years old, a man came to our castle. Jongleur, he said he was. His name was Drake. He had an excellent singing voice, and no one thought much of it when he stayed the night. I don't know exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew there was fighting. I looked out my window, and the drawbridge was down. Armed men were pouring into the castle, more than we could ever hope to defeat." Her voice quavered and she paused for a moment. "I ran into my parents chamber. My father was already putting on his armor to join the fighting as was Oliviere, my older brother. My mother begged them not to go, but they ignored her. I never saw them again. My mother hid me in a wardrobe, but I peeped through the keyhole. I saw everything. Saw Drake himself kill her. I loved my family very much. As soon as they left the room, I hurried to the armory and grabbed a sword, determined to avenge them. I waited until the killing was over, and followed them down to the courtyard. I would have challenged him to a duel, and most likely have been killed, but I slipped in a pool of blood and hit my head. When I came to, they were gone. I was the living among the dead. He massacred the village and stole everything. I'm guessing after that he went to Araluen, proved himself to the king, and eventually became a Baron. For the last eight years, I've trained with nearly every weapon imaginable until I was good enough to hunt them down, and either kill them or their reputation. I don't know what I'll do after that."

She shrugged, pretending this reliving of that hellish night had not affected her, but Will could see she was trying hard not to cry. Her pain hurt him. He could see that she was a vibrant, strong young woman, but that her desire for vengeance was destroying her.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. "Thank you for telling me. I lost my parents when I was a baby, and I know what it is to grow alone. I never even knew them. It must be much harder for you. I'll be going now. Try not to kill anybody, okay?"

She shrugged again, Will took it as a sign of agreement. "Goodbye, Alinia. Good luck. I hope you...find what you're looking for."

She gave him a wan smile as he turned and strode into the bushes.

On the walk back to Tug, he tried to decide what to do. Why had she bared herself to him like that? And why had he done it back? It had been impulsive and foolish. What did he know about her really? That she was hurting yes, but what would she do with that hurt? There was only one way to find out. He would have to follow her and see what she was going to do. Will felt bad for having the thought. She had given him her trust, and he was going to repay it by what, stalking her? But there didn't seem to be much of an alternative. He had to be there to stop her from hurting herself or someone else should things get ugly. It was a temporary fix, he thought, as he mounted Tug. But he needed time to think. He would sleep on it, and ponder what Halt would do. In the morning, maybe things would look simpler.


	7. Gone

**Alright! We know who Alinia is and we're getting to the action****! Criticisms and suggestions appreciated. Enjoy as you Read &amp; Review!**

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Six-Gone**_

When Will woke up, things didn't look much better. Following her indefinitely seemed to be the only way to protect the kingdom's knights from Alinia's vengeance. Perhaps I should go talk to her, he thought, try to tell her that this path is destructive, that she's not doing her family any favors. No, she would never listen, he realized. She's hot-headed and impulsive, and convinced she's doing the right thing.

He decided to take a walk. The woods always seemed to calm him, and make his brain lighter, more flexible. As he stepped into the woods, Tug gave an anxious whinny. Will waved him off, assuring the horse he would be back soon. Unbidden, his feet turned toward Alinia's camp. He stepped into the clearing. Alinia was gone.

He raced forward. In the center of the clearing was a ring of stones surrounding a mound of gray ash. Will touched the ashes tentatively. They were still slightly warm, but they were damp with dew. She had been there last night, but left without cooking breakfast. He crossed to where her tent had been. There were six holes where the tent had been pegged down. He reached down. The earth was damp. She had pulled camp before the dew. That meant she had at least a seven hour head start.

Will dashed recklessly back through the forest to where he had left Tug. Who knew what she was planning, who might be hurt? It was Will's job to protect the kingdom and it's citizens, he intended to do both. The pony gave a snort of alarm as he ran up, then relaxed when he recognized Will. Will pulled his tent pegs and rolled the tent and sleeping bag up. Then he threw the cooking utensils and food supplies into a sack, tossing them beside the tent. He paused, looked at the coffee pot and sighed. Not going to happen, he decided.

He placed Tug's saddle and pad on the pony's sturdy back, and checked his hooves for rocks before bridling him and lashing his packs behind the saddle. Then they rode down the path to the camp, where they picked up her trail. At first it was fairly easy to follow. There was little even Alinia's skills could do to camouflage the passing of a 1500 pound horse. When they reached the stream though, tracking got a little hairier. She had obviously assumed he would follow her, Will thought. And she had ridden in the stream, that much was clear. But down or up? The direction he went would make all the difference in whether he would catch up to Alinia, or become hopelessly off course. He frowned, and tried to picture the maps of Caraway he had seen. This was a fairly large stream, almost a river, and Halt had only showed him the best charts when they did Araluen geography. It _should _have been marked. But for the life of him, Will couldn't remember.

He was about to just make a wild guess and plunge in when something tickled the back of his mind. Alinia wanted to humiliate all the knights she could in tournament combat. And in less than a week, the biggest tournament in the kingdom would take place at Castle Araluen. If she had any particular destination in mind, that was it.

Will thought about it logically. The Semath River made up the border between the Caraway and Araluen fiefs. The stream Alinia was following most likely, from what of it he had seen, ran down from the river that separated Norgate and Caraway, and then into the Semath River. She would follow the stream to where it joined the River, then either be ferried or, knowing her, find a calm stretch and swim her horse over.

Smiling, Will struck out downstream.

All day he followed the current, occasionally leaving the stream to bypass rapids. Along the way, his guess was proven correct, as every time he left the stream to go around a waterfall, there were deep hoof prints in the ground. He was catching up, too. The first time he saw the hoof prints, they were nearly dry. Now, there was water pooled in each one, where it had leached from the saturated ground. At the last bypass, he had even seen drips on the rocks, where a wet horse had shaken itself, that had not yet dried.

At about five o'clock, he reached the Semath, and the hoof prints of Alinia's battle horse left the stream. They were very fresh now, less than two hours old. Then one hour. Then even less.

Will dismounted and told Tug to stay. Then he moved forward on foot. In less than forty-five minutes, Will smelled the faint scent of woodsmoke. Barely detectable but there, like someone burning very dry wood in an attempt to keep smoke down. He smiled, and walked back to Tug. Alinia was not unguarded, from anyone else, or herself.

Tug nickered faintly as Will arrived.

"I'm glad to see you too, boy," he said softly.

Will was subdued that night, not engaging in the usual playful banter he and Tug enjoyed. Instead, he was thoughtful, almost moody. He sat, nursing his coffee and staring into the flames for a long time. Finally, he stood up, throwing the dregs from his coffee cup into the coals. He crawled into his tent and lay down.

"What can we do for her," he whispered to the stars.

They didn't answer.


	8. Plotting Vengeance

**Enjoy the chapter! Please read ****_AND REVIEW, DON'T FORGET THAT PART! _**

**A special thank you to my guest reviewer Olorien, and to fan fiction user moniquebowman. You guys are examples of good reviewers. I won't be mad at people for not reviewing, but I like to know how my story has made people feel, and what I might be able to do to improve my writing skills.**

**Another special thank you to all who have been reading. Here's some feedback for you: Thanks so much, but review too!**

_**THANKS FOR READING!**_

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Seven-Plotting Vengeance**_

Alinia sat beneath the oak tree, body pressed to the trunk, staring up through the branches and into green light that filtered trough the transparent leaves. She had traveled all night, but she didn't want to sleep. I _miss _them, she thought, I miss them so much.

She wasn't sure why she had told the ranger about her family. Despite her feigned nonchalance, reliving the experience _had _hurt, hurt deeply. And despite what she'd said about death being too good for them, it had been a lie.

They deserved death, every one of them, for what they had done to her.

For years she had craved vengeance, and she fed that flame of desire, stoking it to a raging inferno that was prepared to consume the baron and all his lackeys. Her fury had scared her a little, that first year on her own, but she had fed it too long, and it was becoming a part of her. She wasn't sure she liked that, but it gave her something to live for, and she told herself it was right. She felt regret that she had lied to the ranger, he seemed genuinely kind, but she couldn't exactly go around telling rangers that she was plotting the death of an Araluen baron. Ranger's weren't known as sticklers for the law, but killing an escaping prisoner when _maybe _you could have stopped him less violently was very different from carefully plotting the death of a high ranking official, without proof of his crime.

The ranger had probably followed her, she knew that. There was only so much she could do to camouflage Zara's tracks. But that was why she had lit the fire yesterday evening before moving on again through the night. And then she'd taken to the river again, and followed a very small tributary stream. Most likely he'd stopped for the night when he smelled the smoke of her fire, and wouldn't have figured out until this morning that she was long gone. And then, again _hopefully, _the multi stream evasion attempt would throw him for a loop. All the same, her packs and saddle were ready to throw on Zara's back at a moment's notice. She knew never to underestimate a ranger.

She yawned. I really need to rest, she told herself, but there was no way she could sleep through the feelings that still surged within her, even two days after they had been stirred up.

I'll at least eat something, she decided, and stood up. She removed some dried apple slices from the bag where she stored provisions, and was cinching the bag shut again it shut when the crinkle of paper stopped her. She paused and reached in again, pulling out a piece of stiff yellow parchment, fancily lettered.

On it were the words that had inspired her plan.

_All citizens of Araluen are invited to a Grand Tournament_

_On the first of October, to celebrate the Harvest._

_At Castle Araluen, in Araluen Fief_

_All knights are eligible to compete for gold and for glory_

_And all merchants may bring their wares and tout them to the multitudes_

_All the barons of Araluen will be present,_

_Along with the Royal Family and many knights and ladies_

_Come one, come all!_

Alinia smiled, but it was a twisted smile. the tournaments had worked before, and they would work again. Maybe the baron wouldn't be competing, but the blots she would put on his reputation would drive him either to accept her challenge to defend his honor, or drive him form the kingdom in disgrace, whee she could hunt him at her leisure. Either way was fine, although she liked the idea of a public defeat. Most likely she would not get away cleanly after she had killed him, but did she really want to? Alinia was no longer sure. She had only one real friend, and she was pretty sure that that friend would cheer up over her loss as soon as it had a few carrots in it. Her friend nudged her shoulder, breaking her train of thought. She handed a piece of dried apple over her shoulder.

"Hello Zara," she said without looking. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

There was a snort, and she turned, facing her horse. "Are you ready, girl?" she held the piece of paper before the horse's face.

Zara stretched her head forward and scrutinized the pice of paper, her overlong mane and forelock falling into her eyes. Then she turned her head and nudged Alinia violently.

Alinia rocked back. She liked to think it was a gesture of endearment, but she suspected it might have been nose-wiping. "Back off," she pushed the horse's head away playfully. Zara tossed her head and snorted.

"Well, at least you don't seem scared." Her tone became serious. "This will be our biggest fight yet girl," she said softly, "and one way or the other, our last."

The horse huffed softly. Alinia gave her more apple. "You know the routine, girl, let me call the shots, and the rest will take care of itself." She stood there for a long time, hand resting on the crest of Zara's neck, just thinking. When she turned back, the horses ears and eyelids were drooping. Cat napping, she realized. And all of a sudden that was what she wanted. More than anything just to rest, and wake up to find that the last eight years had all been a dream, that her family was alive, and Zara a carefree foal…

That would be the only bad part, she thought lazily. She gritted her teeth. I will take everything from you as you took everything from me. Enjoy your days, Drake of Perrigwyn, for they are few in number…

**The scene with the nose wiping is inspired by real life experience. I used to ride a pony who I swear considered me his personal walking tissue.**


	9. Where is She?

**Thanks for reading!**

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Eight-Where is She?**_

Will opened his eyes to the twittering of birds. For a moment, the peaceful scenery held him, then as the rags of sleep fell from him, he remembered where he was. And why.

He knew he would have to speak to her today, that he could not in good conscience allow her to pursue the path of destruction down which she raced. But what if she wouldn't listen? There was no reason to believe she would. He had tried to speak to her before, without it bearing any fruit. She was convinced that revenge would give her fulfillment, and refused to believe the fact that in reality, it could lead only to regret, and add yet another never-ending prick to a heart already full of needles.

But what else could he do?

_I could steal her armor_, he thought. But that would be wrong too, and definitely a last ditch effort. _I will have to speak to her_, he decided, _and it's better now_ _than never_. He pushed himself to his feet and stood. Tug swung around, rumbling good morning.

"Stay, boy. I won't be long," he said. He walked off into the trees. He hadn't eaten yet, but honestly, he didn't have much of an appetite. He moved at a brisk walk through the woods. The sky was overcast, and there was a faint fog in the air, giving the trees a slightly wavering, ghostly appearance. He stepped from the woods into the clearing.

And stopped in shock.

The fog twisted across the ground of an empty clearing. Will dashed forward, and almost stumbled into the ashes of her campfire. He bent down and scrabbled in the ashes, his mind registering what his fingers felt and translating it to frantic information. Barely warm, damp with dew, she'd left recently but when exactly? Go to where her tent pegs were and feel the earth…

There weren't any.

He realized then what had happened. She'd never camped here, she'd set the fire to throw off pursuers and then continued on. He cursed himself mentally for not thinking of this, for his indecisiveness last night.

_If he'd just spoken to her last night none of this would have happened!_

But another part of him answered back. You couldn't have known, of course it wasn't your fault. Besides, even if you had spoken to her, there's no guarantee she would have listened to you. You cant run her life for her, as much as you might want to.

He stood up and jogged after her tracks. After three miles, and twenty minutes, he gave a cry of frustration. A stream crossed his path, and it joined innumerable others, winding through a hopeless maze, perfect to lose a pursuer. He nearly raced head-long into the reeds, but there was nothing he could do but waist time at best and get lost in there at worst.

He would have to go back to Tug and wait until the tournament, hope he could save her before it was too late. Pity and helplessness, and a childish anger at being outsmarted seethed inside him, and he almost wanted to just tear his hair and yell like a two year old. People that wouldn't listen made him so angry, and when it could be a matter of life and death…

Will refused to think of what might happen to her if she continued fighting these battles. Someday, she would be unhorsed or wounded, and if that didn't kill her, a knight frustrated by what appeared to be a lack of chivalry just might, fair or not. Yes, he would have to stop her before the tournament. He walked into the clearing where he had camped with Tug, and the pony rose from where he had been resting, ears pricked forward, looking hopefully past Will and down the trail.

Will shook his head wearily. "I didn't find her, boy. Hopefully we will before someone less forgiving does."

Tug nickered agreement. He butted his masters shoulder consolingly. At least Will hoped it was consolingly, and not just a persistent request for more apples.

Will lit a fire and walked back to the stream, filling his coffee pot with water. He felt exhausted, running several miles early in the morning without eating first was not easy. And doing that only to find anxiety and heartache was worse.

Mechanically, he poured the coffee into the pot and side beside the fire, brooding, gnawing on a piece of jerky. When it was ready, he carried the coffee over and sat beneath a tree. After a cup, he fed Tug and led him to the stream to drink. Then he walked back under his tree and sat there, coffee turning cold beside him, staring up through the leaves.

Worrying, worrying.

Thinking, thinking.


	10. Not Part of the Plan

**As always, thanks for reading and please review! As we near the end of this tale, I look to the future and what I ought to write next. I have a poll question in that regard on my profile, please voice your opinion!**

**_Alinia's Battle~Chapter Nine~Not Part of the Plan_**

The days passed in a nervous blur for Will, incapable of doing anything to stop or hurry the relentless pace of time. Five more days.

A ranger's life...

Four.

Is one of waiting...

Three.

Broken up by...

Two.

Moments of heart stopping action.

One.

And tearing hair? Halt had never mentioned it, but as Will struggled to fall asleep, he wondered if maybe that _should _be part of the saying.

* * *

Will opened his eyes. Today was the day. Now that it was here though, Will's nervous energy had dissipated, replaced by a sense of icy calm and restrained anticipation. This was it. Today, something would have to give. Alinia would come to the first day of the tournament, and Will would make her leave of her destructive path, one way or another. Even if it meant betrayal.

Then he heard the noise, a soft, huffing grunt. Will sat upright. Was it a bear? A boar? He stood and scanned the bushes.

What he saw sent his heart leaping to his throat faster than a boar or bear ever could have. Tug was down, thrashing.

Colic.

Will knew in a moment what was wrong with the horse. He also knew it could be deadly. He ran to his horse, and one look told him he wouldn't be riding to a tournament that afternoon. Tug's eyes were wild with pain, and a torn, empty bag, once filled with apples, told him the cause of the horse's discomfort. Will put a halter on his pony and led him around, keeping him from thrashing and ending up with something much worse than indigestion.

For hours they walked in circles, then to the stream and back. Tug would calm down, but when Will tried to leave him, the pony tried to roll again. Will was barely able to snatch a few bites every now and again. Into the night he continued his vigil, as the pony slowly improved.

Toward three in the morning, something clicked as the pony was able to defecate, and drank some water from the spring. The morning sun found Will slumped asleep against a tree, the pony dozing on its feet beside him.

Will dozed until noon, when the sun shone directly in his eyes. He awoke and blinked, then sprang to his feet with a curse. When he saw Tug standing next to him, his features calmed, than fell again as he realized he had missed the first two days of the three day tournament. Alinia could be dead by now, or deeply entrenched in the competition, in which case it would be very difficult to persuade her to leave off. He scratched his head, and looked at the sky, then at the pony. Perhaps he could hazard a ride in…no, best to play safe.

Why did things like this have to happen to him? Why did he have to be assigned a greedy pig instead of a horse?

_I heard that._

No, of course he was glad the pony was better, of course he loved him, but sometimes he wished rangers and their horses were as intelligent as the stories said. _If I _were_ a black magician things would be so much easier,_ Will thought. _I could just hypnotize her and be done with it._

But rangers weren't signed up for easy, and that was a fact that had to be faced.

Improvisation, he thought, most plans will need it.

Having a horse required a lot of it. He sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"You fool horse…" he looked at Tug.

The pony innocently put his head down to graze.

Will swore again and kicked out at a tree, then hopped on one foot, making exasperated, and unpublishable, noises.

_Is that the same mouth you use to kiss Alyss? My she would be quite shocked…_

Will glared. "At least now I know you're cured, you old monstrosity!"

**Sorry about the consecutive short chapters, but they were necessary to the story. The action begins a rapid climb to the climax in the next chapter though, I promise!**


	11. The Challenge

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Ten-The Challenge**_

Will somehow managed to sleep the next night, and woke for an early start the morning of the third day of the tournament. He saddled Tug, and mounted, setting off into the early morning sunrise.

By the time he finally exited the woods, riding out onto the plain before Castle Araluen, the sun was already shining down on the jousting lists, and many-colored flags waved jauntily in the breeze.

Will cantered down the hill, slowing to a walk as he neared the lists. He paid a royal to leave Tug picketed on the grass, and to have someone check on him and water him every three hours.

Then he found a tournament official and tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him aside. "The Unknown Knight, of Nowhere?" he asked. "Has he competed recently? I was assigned to investigate him, and was delayed." Will showed his oak leaf to the man, identifying him as a King's Ranger, one to be trusted.

The man's demeanor, annoyed at first, changed to almost ridiculous obsequiousness at the sight of the oak leaf. "Oh, aye, Ranger sir. That he has, and right well too. He's scheduled to fight the final match this afternoon, against the emerging champion of Araluen, who will be decided today."

"Thank you," Will said. "Have you any idea where he is staying?"

"Nay sir, nor does anyone, I'm afraid. He wins the battles, and we see neither hide nor hair of him 'til the next."

Foiled again! Will remained calm, however. "Thank you, my good man. I'll trouble you no longer."

The villager hurried away, glad to remain untouched by the Ranger's black magic.

Will moved to the stands, relieved that Alinia was alive, but knowing that there would be no way to stop her until after the tournament, when it might be too late, and would have little point. He watched as battles were fought, finally crowning as champion around noon Sir Carak of Araluen. Will was not surprised that the winning knight was from Araluen Fief. Its Battleschool was second only to Redmont's, and many brave warriors had passed through the sandstone gateway of its castle.

After some inquiry, Will learned that typical protocol had been breached this year, normally the final battle would be between the champion of the south and champion of the north. No unknown knight had ever advanced beyond the first day. This knight had refused to announce his nationality or affiliation in any way, and they had been forced to declare the fight between north and south the second to last battle, the final being against the unknown knight.

Time dragged heavily throughout the afternoon, and Will visited Tug, ate lunch, and browsed the market until a trumpet sounded, calling all spectators to the lists as the final battle would take place within the hour.

Will took his place in the stands, and sat, more tense than he had been before any battle of his own. It is far worse to watch another risk their life and be unable to act than it is to risk one's own, he thought.

Then the knights appeared and took their places at the far ends of the lists. Both were armed with lances, Alinia's blue and Carak's red. Carak's escutcheon was of a wild boar on a red and yellow ground, and both he and his steed wore trappings of the same colors.

Alinia, as usual, was clad in royal blue and black armor, with the emblem of the bleeding rose. Both bore swords as well.

Will did not know how to think that this would end, and he prayed for Carak's sake that he had never been affiliated with Drake. Earlier in the day, Will had seen Drake, present and speaking with several other high ranking officials. Will had kept his distance from the nobles, not wishing to be noticed by any of his many acquaintances therein.

He feared some rash action on Alinia's part at the sight of her old enemy, but in this he underestimated her self control, as Alinia and her horse remained rock solid at the end of the lists, awaiting the call to arms.

The call came and the knights charged together. At once Will knew that this would be the hardest contest she had yet faced. Carak sat easily in the saddle, and was apparently familiar with her tactic of dancing away at the last second, as he paced his horse slowly and avoided close contact.

After minutes of delicate sparring, almost like an elegant dance of death, the horses were lathered and breathing heavily. Carak feinted with his lance, then succeeded in knocking Alinia from her horses back. She rolled underneath her horse and came up on her feet, placing the mare between her and her enemy.

Regaining her control, she slapped the horse on its rump, sending it to the far end and safety. She dropped her lance, it was much to ungainly to use on foot. Drawing her sword, she stood to face her opponent.

In some situations the opposing knight would have dismounted as well, making the fight fair, but, clearly annoyed by tales of the blue knight's unchivalrous behavior, Carak made no move.

Carak bore down on her.

Alinia moved to the side, but Carak anticipated it and wheeled the horse upon her. Will expected to see her fall under the cruel hoofs, but she leapt and grabbed the horses neck, hanging in front of it. Moving at high speed, and already off balance from the turn, the horse was pulled downward, somersaulting forward. As it rolled forward, its tucked forelegs hit Alinia and she went down, probably saving her life as the 2000 pound animal's momentum carried it over her. Had she been standing, Will realized, its full weight would have come down on her torso, meaning almost certain death.

Now both unhorsed and shaken, the knights faced each other. Before her enemy could fully recover from his fall, and stood still winded and panting, Alinia drove forward in a bewildering series of jabs, slashes and parries, creating her own seamless fighting style until the knight was against the wall.

As his breath returned, Carak's experience gained the upper hand and Alinia was driven back a few paces. Gauging the situation, she returned to her unorthodox fighting style and, knocking his sword aside, dove forward inside the reach of his blade, shoving her shoulder into his torso and knocking him over backwards.

She placed her knee on his blade and brought the hilt of her sword against his helmet with a clang. After two more blows, she dragged his helmet off and slapped him. When he did not move, she stood, satisfied that he was no longer a threat and rose to her feet. She raised her sword.

The crowd broke out into scattered, grudging applause at this unconventional upset defeat of their home country champion.

The stunned head official came forward, carrying on a satin cushion the prize.

It was a sword like no other. The sheath was made of strong steel, enameled white and pale blue and chased in designs of elaborate silver. The blade was crafted by the smiths of the Rangers, matching Nihon-Jan blades in strength and temper. The inside of the sheath was lined in white rabbit fur, lightly oiled, to protect the blade from rust. The hilt was silver, and the pommel blossomed into a beautiful silver rose. In the center was a sapphire, and small white crystals decorated both the scabbard and hilt itself. It was truly a magnificent weapon. Alinia bowed, accepting it with grace, and turned whistling for her horse, to hang the sword upon her saddle.

Then she turned and faced the stands that held the nobility. She tore her helmet from her head and threw it at the foot of the stands. The crowd roared their surprise as her caramel hair tumbled in waves down her shoulders, nearly to her waist. Her steely eyes flashed sparks of ice.

"Drake of Perrigwyn," she cried, her voice lashing the crowd to silence in whips of electricity, "I expose you for what you are: A coward, a monster, and a murderous liar. You killed my family in Gallica, stole their wealth, and purchased with smooth-tongued lies an Araluen barony." With every word she stepped closer to the stands. "I denounce you before Araluen as all these things, and publicly challenge you to fight me for your life and honor. Do you except, or do you choose to whimper like a craven puppy that fears a beating?" She threw her glove in the traditional challenge against the stands.

Livid faced and foaming with rage, Drake stood and faced her. "On what do you base your claims, you hussy?"

"I give you naught but my word, for it is all I have to give, O foul one. And unless you fear my righteous wrath, you _will _accept this challenge, and either give me recompense for your evildoing, or wash away the voice of your misdeeds in my blood."

Not thinking of the consequences, but driven only by fear and crazed by passion Drake seethed: "I accept your challenge, you foolish, lying upstart, when and where shall I kill you?!"

Alinia smiled bitterly. "Three days hence, in this spot, we shall bring and end to our feud before the eyes of a nation."

She turned to face the body of the crowd. "I give you now my proof. In his stable, Drake has in his possession the dam of my mare. If any man here has seen her like anywhere else in Araluen, then let him speak."

The crowd was silent.

"It is as I thought. Also, he holds in his possession a golden goblet in which is set a ruby bearing the Roux family crest, as do other sundry items of value he holds. The three days should be enough for a messenger to travel to Perrigwyn and see that I speak the truth."

Will stared open mouthed. Whatever he had expected, it was nothing like this. As he watched in amazement and horror, Alinia mounted her horse and rode away. Her helmet and glove still lay before the stand.

The noise of fading hoofbeats brought Will to his senses, and he ran forward, picking up the glove and helmet. Then, with the wings of urgency, he sped to Tug and leapt upon his back, and, saddleless and bridless, raced away.

The pony listened even without its trappings, and Will guided him with his legs as they flew after the vanishing black horse. He remembered how, hardly a week ago, he had ridden just such a wild dash after Alinia, and as before, Tug's short, choppy, but ever faster strides whittled down on the lead of the graceful battle horse. With all his heart Will hoped this would be the last of these chases.

But before he could know, he would have to catch the fleeing rider.


	12. Wholly Helpless

_**Alinia's Battle-Chapter Eleven-Wholly Helpless**_

Will caught up with Alinia a mile into the forest.

She knew ranger horses, knew that she couldn't hope to outrun him, so she turned and faced him in the trail, waiting. When he galloped up and skidded to a stop in front of her, his eyes hurt and angry, displaying a hundred different feelings, she was ready. She would be cold and steady and remote, and whatever he said, whatever he tried to say, she _would not _give up her quest.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded coldly. "I am not some lost lamb that you must shepherd every moment, supporting it on tottering legs and shielding it from the world. I fight my own battles, and I will triumph over the wolf. Why do you try to stop me?"

"_Don't you SEE, _Alinia. All of this will only hurt you. You cannot fix anger with anger, heal scars with wounds, or wipe out pain with pain. This will not accomplish anything!"

She regarded him for a moment, emotions an unreadable mask. "I have chosen my path," she said finally. "Let me tread it as I will. It is my life and my story that I write, and need no editor. Truly the Araluens speak well when they say the rangers are meddlers."

The last words stung like whips, and Will's eyes flashed anger. "You can believe that!" he exclaimed. "But it is _not _only your fate you decide but Drake's as well. You have _no right_!"

Her face twisted in anger. "Drake is a murdering devil! He has no rights!"

"He is human, Alinia! What he has done to you is evil, and his life _should _be forfeit, but that is not for you to decide. Besides, he isn't trying to kill you now, this is not self defense, this is vengeance. It is evil."

Alinia glared at him. "_He _is evil! And now, he _is_ trying to kill me. Do you really believe that he will spare me if I refuse to fight him? Or do you think he will call me a coward, and rightly so, and then do his best to quietly remove the last witness to his misdeeds? If you are so concerned in Drake's freedom, than give me mine! It is not for you to decide my fate, take your own words and follow them."

"It isn't the same," Will began, but she cut him off.

"How is it not the same?" she cried. "You tell me not to dictate another's path, and then presume to tell me mine!"

"But I do not _tell _you, Alinia." he said, gaining control of himself. "I merely seek to _guide_ you to make the right decision by planting the seeds of thought. Therein lies the difference."

She seemed to struggle for a moment, looking for a way to refute his reasoning. "There is no difference," she said at last. "And you will not turn me from my satisfaction. I ask that you do not seek me again. If you do, you will be met as an enemy." Her face twitched for a moment, then hardened again. "I am sorry, but it must be so."

Without a further word, she turned and trotted into the forest, stiff, not looking back.

Will sat, defeated, clenching and unclenching his hands on the reins. He did not know what to hope for come the third day hence. He remained there in the path for a long time, wholly helpless.

**Sorry that this chapter was so short, but it was a necessary part of the story. The next chapter will be the climax, and I hope to see a few reviews before then? *hopeful face* As the action begins to draw toward a close, thank you all for reading, I hope you have enjoyed.**


	13. The Duel

**_Alinia's Battle-Chapter Twelve-The Duel_**

The fateful day donned clear and crisp, perfect Autumn weather. A few birds, late to migrate, chirped in their hidden homes among the trees. The sun shone, not giving much warmth, but making the dew sparkle on moss and leaves, and best of all on spiderwebs hung with drops of dew that twinkled like pale Christmas lights, sparkling with a pale fire. It was beautiful and bright, the kind of day where nothing ever went wrong.

But Will had neither ears nor eyes for any of it.

To him, it was dark, filled with foreboding, for one way or another something was about to go terribly wrong. Today, a bright life would either wink out, or besmear itself in the bloody dregs of revenge and be tarnished beyond repair.

He wished he could do _something. _Anything would be better than this helpless waiting. But it was all there was to do. the only way to stop her would be to kill her, she had made it clear she would kill _him _if he approached her. Besides, that wasn't any kind of solution, not _at all. _

Tug seemed to feel it too, lipping halfheartedly at grass, as though he wasn't hungry and didn't want to be. A pall of gloom seemed to smear the sun from the world, making thought and movement sluggish.

Will saddled Tug with clumsy fingers, his hands slipping as his mind drifted continually to other things. He mounted up, chewing absently on a chunk of bread, not hungry for anything else.

There was already a crowd gathered around the lists when Will arrived. An angry buzz pervaded the crowd, and Will heard a multitude of unflattering comments.

"Who does the fool think she is?"

"The little liar!"

"Fool wench'l get herself killed."

And other worse slurs.

There were tents set up on either side of the lists, one flying a flag with Alinia's emblem, the other bearing a black pennant with a red wolf with its front paws on the blade of a naked sword, teeth bared in a snarl. A black stallion, most likely a thoroughbred-shire cross, stood cropping the grass, making Alinia's by no means small draft mare looked tiny and girlishly vulnerable on the other side of the lists. Dread clutched Will's heart.

Neither hide nor hair of the combatants was seen throughout the day as they waited for noon. When the sun indicated the approach of midday, the duelists moved to position. A herald stepped forward and read the time-honored words from a gilded scroll.

"According to the rules of knightly combat, when one knight doth challenge another to battle unto death, there may be no intervention on the part of any spectator, nor may either party concede. Should they attempt to do so, the winning combatant holds the right to decide their fate, and none may challenge his decision. The battle shall continue until the combat has reached a conclusion, either by death or pardon." He rolled up the scroll and addressed the crowd again. "Today the combat shall be fought with lances and swords. No other weapons may be used."

He stepped to the side and entered the small raised podium that the starter always occupied. He raised the signal trumpet that would blow the two calls.

He winded the first.

The combatants stepped forward, their horses prancing, sensing the tension in their rider's bodies. Their pennants waved behind them as they halted, leveling their lances.

Several tense seconds went by. The crowd was still, awaiting the trumpet call that would signal the beginning of the duel. Will could hear the nervous horses' snorting breaths, and the flutter of the tent fabric as a fitful breeze wafted in, carrying dark clouds on its erratic gusts. Will shivered at the rapid weather change as the wind grabbed at his cloak, snapping the fabric against itself. He wasn't superstitious, but the dark clouds seemed to press down on him, the wind gusting foreboding. There was a slight electric tingle to the air as well, a sense of nervous excitement and impending doom. Will shrugged it off. It was probably just an approaching thunderstorm, he told himself.

The trumpet sounded.

The note rang out and hung in the air for a moment before the wind snatched it away and drowned it in the sound of galloping hooves. The enemies crashed together and strove to break each other, like vicious storm-tossed surf breaks upon a rocky cliff. No prancing and dancing for this combat, no chivalry show, this was a battle of mortal enemies. A battle of hate.

Thrust and counter thrust, parry and counter parry. They disengaged and charged again, Alinia's lance shivering to shreds as Drake drew his sword with his other hand and hacked in in two. Recovering quickly, she ducked to the side, hanging Indian-style on the side of her horse, shielding herself with its body. She fumbled for her sword, clawing it from its sheath. Then the horse gave a scream of pain and reared, coming down hard and tilting to the side. It struck the ground with its forefeet and she clung desperately, fingers scrabbling at its mane. She jolted free and fell, hitting the ground, the breath driven from her lungs. She couldn't see, and realized that her helmet was twisted to the side, obscuring her vision.

Raw fear surged through her as she imagined Drake stabbing the lance down at her. She was wearing armor, but only chain mail, which would only block glancing stokes, not a direct thrust. She clawed desperately at the helmet and managed to tear it from her head, her caramel braid tumbling over her shoulders. With a grunt, she rolled to the side as the lance smashed down at her. Not a moment too soon.

The weakness of fear weighted her body as she shivered, realizing that a moment later and she would have been skewered. She could almost feel the sensation of cold metal slipping though her armor and-no, she shook the thought off and slashed out, thankful that she had not landed on her sword.

The lance had struck the earth and caught there for a moment, and in the split second it took to pull it free she slashed through it, destroying it to where it was but a heavy stick. She stabbed quickly upward at the rogue baron, but she rushed the stroke and it barely hit him, glancing off his side armor and casting him from the horse. He switched his sword to his right hand in time to stop her as she thrust at his feet between the horses legs. Then the horse bolted in terror, distracted by the smell of blood and clash of weapons.

In that brief moment of chaos, Alinia glanced to the side and saw that her mare was not badly injured, a shallow flesh wound across the shoulder had been dealt by Drake's sword, enough to frighten it but not serious. Then she turned her mind back to the battle as Drake charged her. He had the advantage on the ground, he was heavier and taller, and their rage was equal.

He brought the sword down at her, then feinted downward and sideward at the last moment. She blocked it, twisting her hands to the side just in time, flinching slightly as the power of his stroke drove the flat of her blade against her side. Then she took the offensive, but he blocked her every stroke with ease.

Alinia was a good swordswoman, but Drake had years of experience. She began to feel desperately outmatched.

Will watched in horror as Drake forced her back, watching as her parries became increasingly desperate. This could only continue so long.

Then he felt a flash of hope as his eyes rested on the blade of Drake's sword.

Alinia saw it too. She was fighting with the prize sword she had acquired at the tournament a few days before, and the specially tempered steel of her blade began to tell. Nicks and scratches lined Drake's blade, some as much as an eighth of an inch deep. And she had only been parrying.

She channeled all her strength and began to push back with her parries, no longer graceful, but making sure her sword slammed against his with maximum force as a plan began to take shape. The nicks grew in size.

The reactions of the man holding the battered sword began to slow as hers were slowing, exhaustion slowly creeping over the combatants. Then Alinia let her arm drift off to the side, just a little, exposing her legs as though she had exhaustedly let her guard falter. Seizing the apparent opportunity, he swung the sword diagonally at her legs, but she jumped and the blade whistled just under her feet.

She hit the ground and pushed off again, slamming against Drake. She grabbed onto his wrist with her left hand, holding his sword steady. Stepping down on the flat of the sword blade, she brought her own extra-hard weapon up and over, slamming down with all the force she could muster.

Drake's sword burst apart, shards of metal flying and striking sparks off the rocks as the extra-hard blade knifed through it. He stood, shocked.

Alinia stepped back and kicked him viciously in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs and leaving him bent over and gasping. Then she strode forward and grabbed his helmet, jerking it off none to gently.

Will winced as Drake's head jerked back, a thin line of blood appearing on his forehead and dripping into his eye as the edge of the helmet crossed his forehead.

Alinia threw it to the side and drew her arm back, placing the razor sharp point of her sword against Drake's neck. His eyes widened at the prick and he swallowed, panting.

The action of swallowing pushed his throat forward, and a small dot of crimson appeared, grew, and trickled down his neck as the razor-sharp edge cut him. He backed away until he could back no more, pressed against the stands.

The man stared death in the face bravely, Will had to give him that. Or perhaps he was insane, there was always that possibility.

"You killed my family."

Her tone was flat, and in a low sound register, but in the deathly silence as the spectators held their breath it carried to every straining ear.

A low growl of thunder rumbled in the distance as a fat raindrop hit Will's cheek.

Alinia drew her hand back and there was a flash of lightning. In the front of the stands, a woman screamed.

Will recognized her as Drake's lady, Johanette.

"No!" she cried. "Don't kill him, PLEASE!"

Alinia did not look up.

But her arm wavered.

"Please," the woman begged.

The clouds opened up and rain like Will had never seen before poured down, plastering his hair to his face, soaking his cloak and filling his eyes in a matter of seconds.

The lightning flashed again, this time nearly overhead. The fearful whinnies of the frightened horse were lost in an impossibly loud clap of thunder.

Alinia's sword clattered to the ground as her fingers loosened. Slowly, she raised her face and looked into the woman's face. Her eyes still held deadly intent, but there was something else. Water beaded on a wisp of hair that had escaped from her braid and dripped over her face.

Hope shone on Johanette's face.

Alinia turned away, leaving Drake drenched and sprawling in terror at the base of the stands.

Will followed her erect form with his eyes, his apprehensive face of earlier transfigured by hope and joy. Then a movement caught his eye.

"Alinia!" he cried in warning. Will's voice was loud, used to command. But he didn't speak soon enough.

As Will had seen, Drake leapt forward, his dagger held in front of him, launching himself at Alinia's undefended back. At the sound of Will's voice Alinia turned. But it was too little too late.

Instead of catching her in the back and insuring certain death, the dagger hit Alinia in the left side, between hip and ribs. A few inches to the left and it would have missed her. A few inches to the right and she'd have been dead.

She gave a cry and fell backward, her head splashing down into a pool of muddy water. She kicked out blindly, unable to see through the driving rain now falling directly into her eyes. The action of kicking caused the knife to tear again at her side, and she grunted. Rolling to her right and pushing herself up onto one knee. Able to see again, she spotted Drake.

Holding _her_ sword high above her.

To kill her.

Will had already vaulted over the seats in front of him and run forward, but he knew he would be to late.

Time seemed to slow down. The pain in Alinia's side faded to a dull ache, the rain splashing on her face lost the sensation of cold, and the crash of thunder faded to only a distant rumble as the sword began to descend.

She had failed.

She had lost.

She was going to die.

A desperate something inside her refused to go down, and with a desperate cry of pain and hopelessness she launched herself up and forward, catching Drake's legs in a tackle and pulling him down. He lost control of his stroke as he fell and tried to catch himself, the sword landing at a funny angle and glancing harmlessly off her armor.

She heard a man's terrible scream of pain, echoed by a woman's cry of horror, and something heavy fell on top of her, pressing her down so that her knees poked up into her chest, hunching her over at an awkward angle. Desperately, she pressed upward and crawled from under the crushing weight.

She looked back. Drake lay at her feet. In a flicker of lightning she caught the gleam of metal. The baron had fallen on his sword.

Numbly, she pushed herself to her feet. Her hand groped clumsily down her side and her fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger, nudging it slightly. She gave a gasp of pain at the movement and stumbled forward blindly, her feet blocky and clumsy like nerveless chunks of wood. Then Zara was there, nudging her, soft woofs of horse breath warm on her face.

With an effort, she raised her leg and put it in the stirrup, crying out as she took her weight on her injured side as she swung into the saddle. She hunched over, mouth slightly open as a wave of nausea hit her and her vision threatened to go black. Water streamed down her face and into her mouth. She kicked the horse forward and down the path.

They would kill her for killing the baron, and she didn't want to die again. In her muddled brain, that was how the situation appeared. Every jolt of the horses cantering footsteps sent jagged lances of pain up and down her side, and spots danced along the edges of her vision. Don't black out, don't black out, don't black out, she told herself. But there was only so much mental toughness could do.

Soon she wasn't seeing any more, and it was only numbly that she felt herself slip to the side, crumple over the horse's neck and strike the hard ground with a painful jolt, landing awkwardly against a tree. A small rivulet of water ran down the hill they had just come down, and the last thing she felt as the world faded utterly was Zara frantically nosing her, and her side going numb as water pooled against her from the tiny stream.

**Okay, I gave you an extra long chapter, may I please have some extra long reviews? Thanks for reading!**


	14. Blood, Rain, and Angel's Wings

**_Alinia's Battle-Chapter Thirteen-Blood, Rain, and Angel's Wings_**

Will had watched in growing horror as Alinia continued her downward path to destruction, then with growing hope as she had spared Drake in response to his Lady's desperate cries. And then he saw Drake draw the knife.

Fear surged through Will, and he cried a warning, but it was too late. Alinia turned instead of running as he'd intended, and the knife caught her in the side. Will's heart nearly stopped as she fell over backward, seemingly dead.

Then she kicked out at Drake, trying to knock him from his feet, but the movement was spastic and uncoordinated, and the dastard knight had simply stepped to the side, before pulling Alinia's cast off sword from the muck and raising it to kill her. Will ran forward as Alinia dashed her hand across her eyes to clear them of rain and pushed herself to her knee. The sword flashed down as Will tripped over one of the seats and sprawled forward on his face, now unable to see the combat.

He heard her cry out and hope faded utterly.

Until Drake screamed, his cry echoed by a tearing sob of grief from Johannette.

Will grabbed the back of the seat and pulled himself up, trying to get disentangled from the folds of his cloak.

Drake lay on the ground, a foot of bloodstained sword protruding from his back. Alinia was disappearing into the night.

Will swore. She was injured! How could she even think running off away from all help would be a good idea. He had to stop her. _Again, _he couldn't help thinking.

He ran to Tug and mounted him bareback, trusting the pony not to pull any tricks as they took off after the injured girl. With the rain driving in his face, and the muddy water from the ground splashing into his face as he bent low over the neck of the racing pony, he realized that this was the third time her tournament had ended with him racing after her.

This was decidedly the most urgent. For all he knew she was already dead. The image of her uncoordinated scramble to mount her horse, blood trailing down her side, sprang to the forefront of his mind.

He urged the pony to run faster.

The rain whipped into his face, soaking his cloak until even in the driving wind of their passage it refused to flutter, clinging sodden and limp to his legs. Trees flashed by on either side as they galloped into the forest, the footing growing steeper. After a few strides will was forced to slow Tug all the way to a walk as he saw that just a hundred feet ahead the ground plunged down steeply. The pony would be of no help to anyone if he slipped and broke a leg on the treacherous slime the trail had become.

A gust of wind ruffled through the woods, blowing Will's hood off and shaking bigger, fatter drops of rain tom the waterlogged leaves above. The visibility was nearly zero in the gloom of the storm, and combined with the shade of the trees and the driving rain Will could hardly see a thing.

Suddenly Tug's head came up and his ears pricked forward. Will sat up straight, knowing the pony must have caught a scent on the wind. Then the pony gave a piercing whinny, and somewhere down the trail, high and frantic, came an answer. Will urged Tug forward as the sounds of a trotting horse materialized and came through the lashing sound of heavy rain on leaves just as the horse itself emerged from the curtain of moisture up ahead. There was an ominous stain of red mingled with the water that matted the fur of her shoulder and mane. The horse stopped in front of Tug and squealed, whirling around trotting back the way it had come. Then it stopped and looked over it's shoulder.

Will didn't believe that animals were smarter than people, and he definitely didn't believe in magic, but if there was someone who believed in the unpredictable and frequently dumbfounding bonds between humans and animals, or more specifically between humans and horses, it was Will Treaty. He pressed Tug to follow the mare, and a small cry escaped him as they reached the top of the slope and looked down.

Lying crumpled and limp against a tree, her face startlingly pale against the mud and partially obscured by tangled strands of soaking hair was Alinia. The heavy rain had caused a small rivulet to form beside the path and Alinia lay across it like a dam, the water pooling against her side. But the puddle beside her wasn't all water.

Will leapt off the pony, running down the hill with Tug close behind him. He slid to a stop beside the still form of the girl and knelt beside her, ignoring the cold gritty mud that soaked his knees and the driving rain that stung like arrows against his face and neck. For a moment he thought she was dead, she was so white and still, but after he watched for a moment he could see the way her expression flickered slightly with pain every breath. She was alive…for now.

With that realization his brain switched gears as his training kicked in. He knew what he had to do.

The first thing to do was rig some kind of shelter as he couldn't exactly work on her with rain streaming into his eyes and soaking his medical supplies. The medical supplies! In his hurry, he forgot that he had ridden Tug after her bareback, all his supplies were still back at his camp!

But wait, Alinia must have something for emergencies, and her camp was much closer, perhaps a mile away. Convinced that Zara had no wish to leave the side of her injured mistress, Will mounted his little gray pony and disappeared among the trees.

He was gone for less than twenty minutes, and Alinia still lay where he had left her.

Although the violence of the storm had spent itself and only a light mist still drifted down, the leaves of the trees, still laden with water, maintained a steady drip-drip-drip—for all the world like tears. Will shook off the notion that the forest was crying and at the base of the slick hill laid a blanket on the ground, staking Alinia's tent of heavy oilcloth overtop. It took him a long time to find dry firewood, and dusk was beginning to cover the trees—or perhaps the storm had simply hastened the onset of evening— by the time a pitiful spark from his flint and steel finally caught the damp tinder and flared into life.

The flickering light of the fire on the ghostly trees, shining through the mist, gave the whole scene a surreal ghostliness as Will climbed the hill and gathered Alinia into his arms, carrying her down and laying her gently on the blanket. Still and pale, without a spark of anger, revenge, or defensiveness clouding her face she no longer looked so much older than her years, in fact she looked younger. Her stillness, the drained whiteness of her face, and her slightly curled position seemed to give the illusion of a hurt baby animal—a fawn perhaps—tiny and infinitely fragile.

She had suffered more than most would in a lifetime, but for once, she showed no sign of it. Her face held the tranquil peace and fearlessness of one who has done right, and for whom not even death holds fear.

It was with a heavy heart and a gentle hand that Will went about his work, doing his utmost to safeguard that life that held so fragilely to the threads that bound it to this world.

When he finished and sat back, having done all he could, it was deep night.

It was that time that has no reality, when all the world seems to have come to a stop and the otherworldly hovers so close to the firmament on which we live that it's like one could reach out and touch the peace of God.

It seemed as though the touch of another world was over Alinia then as she clung tenuously to life, and to Will it almost seemed that the effect of laying down the hate that had consumed her had left her drained but peaceful, to fine for this world to hold any longer. She was like the threads of gossamer that spiders weave, beautiful but passing.

The breeze that riffled through the trees gave the illusion of the gentle wafting of angel's wings, brushing this world and wrapping the troubled soul within, returning it to the loved-ones it had missed so long.

But it was not to be, and the night passed with Alinia still hovering, walking dangerously close to that gauzy thread that separates life from death.

Will, exhausted with the stress of the previous night, lay outside the tent, slumped to the side where he had fallen asleep and toppled backward sometime in the wee hours of the morning. The coals of the fire had _not _survived the night, and lay in pale ashes, one last wraith of smoke wafting upward like the last gasp of the dying. But even as the fire died, Alinia lived, and even as the last breath of smoke spiraled upward and was lost, breath returned to her, and her eyes fluttered open.

On the limb of a tree that overhung the camp a robin burst into song and Will stirred and sat up, his brown hair tousled. He looked around as though wondering where he was, but before he could recall on his own it came back with the voice that mere hours before he thought he would never hear again.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Alinia said. "The sun, the forest, that little bird. Sometimes we forget how wonderful life is until it's too late to remember, but I've been given more time. Thank God, I've been given more time. It's so beautiful."

The sun burst in a glorious haze over the horizon, bathing the world in light.


	15. Epilogue

**_Alinia's Battle-Epilogue_**

Over the following days, stretching into a few weeks, Alinia healed in more ways than one. Her life would never be the same again, but it was not for her to forget but to forgive. In the end, she returned to Gallica, unsure of what she would do next, but looking to do something.

Will returned to Redmont a few days later, it being nearly full winter when he rode slowly up the path to his little cabin, Tug's gray coat blending into the mist that filled the dusky evening air. A light glowed cheerily in the window, Alyss, he thought. He heard a slithering and a scratching on the porch before Ebony leapt down the step, tongue lolling, jaws wide in a happy smile.

Tug rolled his eyes and pranced away from the boisterous dog, but Will stopped him with a word before dismounting and squatting, ruffling the dogs fur and ears as it whined doggy whimpers of excitement. The sound of the door opening startled him and he looked up, seeing Alyss silhouetted in the light for a brief second before the door shut.

He stood up, ignoring the dog as it twisted against his legs, fur warm and soft against his chilly legs.

His eyes adjusted to the deeper twilight under the overhang of the porch and he saw her, like a ghost of loveliness, her blonde hair and yellow night gown causing her face to glow. Or perhaps it was the fact that it had been recently washed, as she was obviously preparing for bed, not knowing when Will would return. Frankly, he didn't care what made her face glow. He just knew that it did.

Suddenly nervous, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Hello, Will," she called, stepping down off the porch.

"Hi Alyss," he squeaked, his voice rising several octaves the way it did when he was nervous. He found his hand fumbling in his pocket, grasping the ring so hard that his knuckles would have been bright white if anyone had been in his pocket to see it. He'd known since Horace and Evanlyn announced their engagement that night in Nihon-Ja he knew where he was going with Alyss. Of course…when he tried to talk to her his proposal had been less than impressive and over the last year since then he had bided his time, waiting for the right words.

They still hadn't come, but during the Alinia incident the fleeting nature of life had been drilled home to him, and when he saw the ring at the silversmith's booth he knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Alyss stepped forward and he hugged her, slightly detached as he wondered what to say. He'd faced Temujai warriors, angry Skandians, even charging Wargals. They were all easier than finding the words.

Alyss seemed to sense that his mind was not fully in the moment. She drew back, staring into his face, her delicate eyebrows drawn into a slight frown as she scanned him. "Is something wrong?" she asked."Were you able to put a stop to the killings?"

"Yes, every things fine," he said. He took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Not releasing her hand, he dropped to one knee and looked into her eyes. "WillyoumarrrymeAlyss?"he asked.

Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened. Success, he thought, he'd finally startled her for once.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, regaining her composure. Her eyes seemed soft, an almost fuzzy blue in the dim glow of the window. It slowly registered that she was crying, and he was too.

Will smiled.

Alyss smiled too. They were both so happy that Will forgot to stand back up, but Alyss was happy too and it didn't bother her at all when she knelt down to his level. Then Will let go of her hand.

And pulled her into a kiss.

She felt the cool touch of metal around her finger as he slid on a ring. She drew back, surprised that he'd thought of that. Then she looked down.

Her lips curved into a smile as she looked at it, then him, leaning in again. Her long hair draped around them, hiding their kiss from the scoffing pony in the corner of the yard.

Suddenly they both felt a wet nose shove itself in between their faces as Ebony butted in, demanding her fair share of the attention. Alyss laughed, and Will laughed to. Then they were both laughing helplessly as Ebony bounced between them, putting muddy paw prints on clothes and moist dog kisses on happy faces.

Tug snorted, but he was lying, and the gleam of the silver band on Alyss' finger, sparkling where the inlaid designs of an oakleaf and laurel twined around each other made him happy too. They were officially the family they always had been.

* * *

**Well, that's all folks! Please review and give me your overall impression of the story. Also, before you mention it, I know John Flanagan already wrote Will and Alyss' proposal, but there was no engagement ring or anything exchanged so I took the liberty of making it official. Also, would any of you like to see more RA stories from me? I have some ideas.**

**Last of all, one big thank you to all of you, especially the ones who reviewed. I nearly quit in the middle of this story because it was such a slog, but that final two chapters were some of the best I've ever written, and I'm so glad I made myself keep going! You guys were a big part of it, as I knew I'd be condemning someone to a perpetual cliff-hanger if I quit. I really appreciated every kind word. **


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